Narwen's Drabbles
by Narwen Almiriel
Summary: A collection of drabbles, each exactly 100 words in length as counted by Word, featuring a variety of characters.
1. Drabble One

_Hello all! And how are you?  
_**(hides in corner to escape rotten tomatoes)**  
_I know there is no excuse WHATSOEVER for going missing for so long.  
__Yes, I have been busy with school, tests, and the last of the coursework (almost finished with coursework, though. YAY!). But I also discovered the joys of a LiveJournal (Ooh! Tell me what you think of it! The link is on my bio), and I joined a wonderful LotR writers community on LJ called 'There and Back Again', and I found HASA! And I have been doing some beta-ing. It is so much fun! So I have been productive, at least.  
__Anyone waiting for updates on stories, I really, really do apologise sincerely for the long wait. But I promise I will get stuff posted in a couple of weeks, once it's the holidays. I have revision to do then, and I can assure you I will be doing plenty of writing then to take my mind off stuff. I am currently in the process of finding a beta for UWMA (anyone interested? Anyone at all?), and T&T is moving along in my head at least.  
__Meanwhile. I've been busy drabbling! It is so much fun! I have been doing this challenge thingy with a couple of lovely people, where we each contribute one or two words each, and then have to use all of those words in a drabble. FUN! It was my birthday last week, and I was determined to post something then, but schoolwork took over. So this week instead. I thought I would put up completed drabbles here and then perhaps add more later. If you have some time, do tell me what you think of them!  
__Righty ho. On to drabbles then. I thought I would list the words with them, since some of them are hard! And I'm not feeling particularly imaginative about titles, so…  
__But hope you like them!_

_- Narwen_

**1. Light, joyful, shadows, library**

_A light from the shadows shall spring..._

It sits there, alone, but not forgotten.

The sword of Elendil, Narsil. Once it was wielded by the greatest of the Faithful. Today it is broken, an empty heirloom, resting in the library of Imladris.

In Imladris, where the blood of Numenor has been fostered, generation after generation, in the hope that one day there may be one who will reclaim the throne of Gondor.

That day is nearing...

Estel, he was called. His joyful childhood is left behind now. He is no longer a mere human. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn.

* * *

_So? Any comments? And can someone suggest a more imaginative title for this collection of drabbles, please?_


	2. Drabble Two

**2. Laughter, song, carry away, doll**

The halls of Meduseld are filled with laughter once more. It has been so long...

My daughter shyly comes up to me, her doll clutched fiercely in her arms. She is the apple of my eye, my Theodwyn. Lothíriel tells me that Wyn has me wrapped around her little finger, although she is not yet three years old. Perhaps she is right...

I cannot resist her round blue eyes, so like Éowyn's when she was little. And her sweet voice never fails to carry me away.

"Song," she says. It is not a request.

And I will sing for her.

* * *


	3. Drabble Three

**3. Rapturous, incombustible, stranger**

The stranger holds his audience in awe...

Who is he? Where has he come from? Nobody knows, and nobody cares.

The children all join in the rapturous applause as he sends the seemingly incombustible stones up into flames. They watch, enthralled, as sparks fly from the stranger's staff. His eyes twinkle and his mouth creases into a smile behind his thick, bushy beard, as he watches the little elflings 'ooh' and 'aah' at the firework display.

It has been long since he visited the Last Homely House. And yet not much has changed...

From behind him, a voice calls.

"Mithrandir?"

* * *


	4. Drabble Four

**4. Noticeable, apprehensive, forceful**

Aragorn was nervous, more than he had ever been in his entire life. He hoped his fears were not too noticeable. He was king now, and yet today, he was apprehensive. Was he doing the right thing? Was it wrong of him to subject her to this?

Then he saw her, as if in a dream, just like that day all those years ago…

Beside him, Éomer gave him an almost forceful push, and he was in front of her...

He took her hand.

Afterwards, when the music started, his doubts disappeared.

"Dance with me?"

The answer came straightaway.

"Always."

* * *


	5. Drabble Five

**5. Toddle, parasol, mythical**

Little Arwen awoke with a start. Dragons! Lots of them! They were big, and scary. But her Ada said that they were only in stories...what were mythical creatures doing in her dreams? She was scared. Where were Ada and Nana?

She decided to toddle out to find someone. Wait...whose turn was it to mind her during naptime today? Glorfy! Of course! She peeped outside her room. Sure enough, there he was, fast asleep in the sunny courtyard, under what she was sure was her nana's parasol...

Glorfindel woke up later, to find a little elfling fast asleep on his lap...

* * *


	6. Drabble Six

**6. Disrespect, honesty, plot, music**

"I mean no disrespect, Sire, but in all honesty, you have completely lost the plot!"

"How dare you! You are my son, Boromir!"

"You seem to forget that he is also your son."

"He disobeyed me! He should have been training!"

"He was training all day. He is still a child, father. He loves all manner of music. You cannot accuse him of disobedience for listening to the minstrels."

"I am his father. I have every right to."

"You are being unreasonable!"

Father and son continue to shout at each other, while from the corner, a boy watches tearfully, unnoticed.

* * *


	7. Drabble Seven

**7. Synchronicity, identical, house-trained**

I know them better than most, but still they are an enigma. The twin sons of Elrond, identical like two peas in a pod. When they were elflings, they would eat, walk, even sleep in synchronicity. When they got older, it became a game. But today, even more than two millennia after their birth, they still think alike. No, they are not like house-trained pets, without minds of their own. Elladan is the warrior, Elrohir the scholar. So different, yet they will always be two halves of a whole.

But soon they have a decision to make...what will they choose?

* * *


	8. Chapter Eight

_More drabbles..._

**8. Prove, each, success**

What is my worth?

How can I prove to them my capabilities?

Alas, that I was born a woman. How can a woman ever meet with success in this world? My brother loves me, and yet not even he understands me. I train with his soldiers, but which of them really respects the White Lady? In each man's eyes, I see only indifference, or lust.

I can best any of Éomer's men in combat…but perhaps I also wound their pride. They cannot accept me… I am, and will always be, a mere woman.

Who will free me from my cage?

* * *


	9. Chapter Nine

_These words were absolutely horrible and EVIL, so please do forgive this terrible drabble._

**9. Bewailed, diviner/divine, muddles, struts**

In a small, almost forgotten room near the library of Imladris, a small figure strutted about in what appeared to be a bedsheet. It was actually a dress made to fit a grown elf. So naturally poor Arwen found herself tripping in it. But none of the others made her look like a diviner, like her grandmother…In a corner of the room lay more dresses all muddled up. Arwen did not know what to do. She bewailed the loss of her two favourite dolls in the hands of her brothers.

Now who would take their place at her tea table?

* * *

**A/N** _For anyone who does not know what a 'diviner' is (because I certainly didn't!), it's a mystic or a psychic sort of person._

_-Narwen_


	10. Drabble Ten

**10. Injury, respect, to put, praise**

They all praised her.

People came into the Houses of Healing every day to ask after her. They gave her flowers, wished her a safe recovery.

But not him. She had not seen him since that day. He had healed her wounds, her injuries, but not her heart. She did not care what anyone else said. She did not want fame. All she wanted was for him to respect her. To love her. She would ask him why he did not, but she could not put aside her pride. She was the White Lady. Surely she was worthy of him?

* * *

**Reviewer responses** (I actually had no idea anyone would be reading these, so I really am grateful):-

**Morph**: blushes Thank you! I'm glad you liked them.  
**Always Arwen**: I'm happy that I could make your day better!  
**Evenstar Greenleaf:** I love little Arwen too! (but I prefer sad drabbles to happy ones, to be honest.)

_-Narwen_


End file.
